One Way to do It
by TippedOver
Summary: It's Stacy's time to get her driver's license, and Dad gives her some friendly advice. R&R?


One way to do it 

Standard Denials: I own nothing but this Armada 1700 laptop and an old Jeep. Even my imaginary friend left me because of lack of funds and material goods. Bastard!

This story is © 2006 by TippedOver. Stacy and her folks (?) are owned by Mtv, a.k.a. Viacom, shareholders, and probably Rupert Murdock. I genuflect in your general direction for letting us have Daria… and curse your name to the very depths of Hell for trying to take her away. Daria on DVD!

Stacy sat in the driver's seat of her fathers Crown Victoria, and tried to stay calm. She could feel the sweat starting to pop up to the surface (Tiffany: Staaacccyyy! Ewwwwww!) as she stretched the seat belt across her chest and lap. She tried not to look at the tester sitting in the passenger seat, who was writing notes in the manila folder that had "Stacy Rowe" and "Final Road Test" typewritten across the top. She sighed, and then looked out the side window at her mother, who was waiting on the bus stop bench. Her mother looked up at that moment, smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. She looked nervous, but what did SHE have to worry about, thought Stacy. 'She HAS her license!'

Stacy started running over what she had to do it in her head, like her Dad told her at the kitchen table that morning; "First thing you do is greet the instructor. Make a good impression. If you are a little nervous, that's OK. He or she probably sees a lot of that. Listen to them. Put your seatbelt on! Very important. Next, check your mirrors. Make sure that nobody is around before you stamp on that old gas pedal and lay rubber taking off."

Stacy nodded quickly, and passed her Dad his coffee cup. He took a sip, and continued. "Then, when you get to the first stop sign, stop completely before the crosswalk. You wanna make sure that there is someone watching you when the car launches. It is a great feeling when you look over and see someone mouth the word 'WOW!' at you." He paused for a moment. "Taking out a pedestrian is not a good thing, most of the time. Most of the are law-abiding people, trying to get thru their lives with as little muss and fuss as possible. Of course, if you see someone give you a dirty look AS you come up, then it's perfectly understandable. After all," he said with a grin, "Who's bigger, you or them?"

Stacy smiled back at her father, and then turned her attention back towards the eggs she was making. She thought he might be making a joke, but she wasn't sure. He's had his license for a long time. He knew what it took. 'Daddy never lied to me before,' she thought, as she salt-and-peppered his eggs. 'Hitting people? That doesn't sound right. Buuuttttt….' Stacy flipped the eggs out of the pan, and onto the plate to join the biscuit her mother had made before she went in to take her shower. She picked up two pieces of greasy bacon from the rack, and deposited them on his plate. She picked it up, and then set it in front of him.

"What about red lights? They always seem to turn yellow so quickly when I was practicing. I was never sure when to stop." Stacy continued her questioning.

"That's easy, honey." Her father paused to tuck a piece of bacon in his cheek. He chewed for a minute, and then swallowed. "Good bacon, thanks." He continued after picking up his coffee cup. "It depends on the actual _color_ of the light. There are the standard red, yellow, and green lights. You know that from the Driver's Ed book, and from your permit test. There is one more color that they don't tell you about. Any driver worth his or her salt knows about it. The color is _bright pink_." He took a sip, and the set the cup down.

Stacy looked at him quizzically. 'Bright pink?' she thought. 'I never heard of that.' She kept quiet while her father ate a few bites of his egg, and another bite of bacon. She knew if she was quiet, he would continue. After a moment, he did.

"I'm not supposed to tell you this," her father said, as he took a quick look toward the shower door, and then leaned forward so he could speak to her in a quieter voice. "Bright pink is the color _between_ yellow and red. Most people don't realize it, and the DMV tries to keep it a secret, but some of us know about it. This color means that you can still cross traffic, in the second that the red light comes up. If you get to a light, and the light turns red at the _second_ you reach it, hit the gas a little harder. You'll fly across the intersection, and everyone will still wait for you. Besides," he said as he picked up his cup again and grinned, "they got brakes too, don't they?"

"Sure." said Stacy. She smiled at her father, and set her plate of toast on the table. She heard her mother coming in from the bathroom, and then leaned across the table. "I won't tell Mom." she whispered. "I'll keep it a secret about the lights and stuff when I get to the test. Thank you, Daddy!"

Stacy finished her breakfast a few minutes later, and put her dishes in the sink. She headed toward her bedroom, to get ready for her test. She passed her Mom in the hallway, who was on her way to the kitchen for her own breakfast. "Ready for the big day?" she asked her daughter brightly. "Sure, Mom. I'm gonna take my shower and then we can go." Stacy continued to her bedroom, and shut the door.

Two hours later, standing out in the yard with one of the neighbors, Stacy's Dad laughed. Stacy and her mother had left almost and hour ago, to meet the driving tester downtown. "Yeah, I told her a bunch of nonsense. You know, the bright pink light thing." He paused while he and the neighbor had a good chuckle. "She's a smart girl, no matter what she acts like sometimes. I hope she got a good laugh out of it also, and it calmed her down a little."

In the distance, they could hear the sound of sirens.

Well, there we go. My first fanfic…..ever! I have been reading a lot of other people's work, and I thought I'd give it a shot. I always liked Stacy, and thought she should have punched Sandi in the schnozz at least once during the Daria run, but it didn't happen. It took me about 2 hours to write this, I woke up with the idea in my head, and just couldn't shake it.

If you liked it, tolerated it, thought it would be a great thing to use in a paper-mache' bust of Bill Clinton's left buttock, write and let me know! You can catch me at .


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